


What the Bluebirds Sing

by Fudgyokra



Category: Treasure Planet (2002)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Movie(s), older jim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-11 22:38:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7073359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fudgyokra/pseuds/Fudgyokra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"God, I missed you," Jim said, voice barely above a whisper. "It's been five goddamn years."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

After being trapped on torrid Eidera for a month and a half, Montressor was a breath of fresh air.

Jim welcomed the frigid temperature of Crescentia with open arms, but he soon found that the comfort of the meticulously swept spaceport did not accompany him all the way back to the Benbow Inn. In fact, by the time he arrived he was standing in three inches of snow, clad only in the black tank top and military green cargo shorts he’d reserved for Eidera. At the very least he had on boots, he thought spitefully, now shivering so hard he ran the risk of accidentally biting off his own tongue.

He still adamantly clung to his assertion that the four years he’d spent in the Interstellar Academy should have better prepared him for planning ahead, even though his mother always rolled her eyes good-naturedly when he would say so and Delbert would put in, unhelpfully, that it was Jim’s own fault for lacking common sense. On the bright side, Amelia helped him out by reminding her fiancé that he was one to talk. That usually did the job of shutting him up.

Upon recalling these memories, Jim smiled, his aversion to the chill momentarily forgotten. Once he’d gathered his wits and swept his bangs out of his face he stepped inside, drinking in the sight of the Benbow Inn. It had been quite a while since he’d been here, he realized as his gaze settled on two new pictures perched atop the mantel to his right—one was of Amelia and Delbert, the other of them and their children. The thought that the kids would nearly be four struck him harder than he expected for more reasons than one.

That meant it had been almost five years since he’d last seen John Silver.

He averted his gaze to the opposite side of the room and stared, unfocused, out the window that cut across most of the wall. Time seemed to move faster in this inn than it had back at the academy where he’d been boarding for the past few years. It seemed strange that the adventure from his youth was so far away, yet he was no longer a kid, either.

A sudden impetus prompted him to look back at the mantel, and the sudden sense that he was being watched by those eyes in the photographs ignited in him a peculiar sense of loss. His friend Delbert had found a wonderful life partner, his mother had gotten the opportunity to rebuild her inn, which burgeoned upon opening just as it had the first time, and everyone’s lives were perfect in little, unassuming Montressor. Jim, on the other hand, had lost the only person who’d ever made his heart skip a beat.

He blamed it on his own carelessness, his falling for such a rogue; he also blamed it on Silver, just a little bit, for being there when no one else was. At the time he felt like he didn’t deserve such kindness. A boy of fifteen with no future was hardly someone to grow fond of, but, then again, Silver probably believed that an old cook with two missing limbs wasn’t much to see, either.

It took him a moment to recognize that his nostalgia had become too hopeful (not to mention pining), so he made himself return to the present. Still, he couldn’t help but shake his head, smiling at the memories he’d conjured. Memories were all he had left, anyway, so he might as well enjoy them. When the last of the thoughts had finally fled he realized with a jolt that, despite the hour, there were still two patrons left awake in the parlor, playing chess by the fireplace. Everything around them was calm and cozy, reflecting the very best of the inn that made Jim miss it all the more. One more month of school and he’d be able to move closer to home, he assured himself. He knew his mom would be thrilled.

Speaking of his mother, the conveniently-timed splash of water running in the kitchen sink alerted him to her whereabouts and he wasted no more time ambling about the parlor.

Seeing his face brought forth an instantaneous gasp on her part. Immediately she shut off the faucet, returned the plate in her hands to the dirty pile, and threw her arms around her son’s neck. He hugged her back and from there they migrated to one of the dining room tables, where the catch-up conversation he’d been expecting reared its head, beginning with Sarah’s chastisement that he should be properly dressed for this weather and ending with Jim’s latest planetary excursion. At ease once more, the boy leaned back in his seat and looked wistfully up at the stars through the window. Muscle memory.

“Yeah, that’s about it when it comes to Eidera,” he said, concluding his recount of the planet’s arid atmosphere. “Desert, desert, and more desert.” He whistled. “But it was my last class trip.”

“Oh…” Sarah cupped her hands around her proud smile. “My baby’s all grown up and almost done with school.”

“It’s more of a training facility than a school, mom,” he said with a chuckle. He’d said that a million times before, but she never budged when it came to her terminology.

She took her hands away from her mouth once she’d fully recovered from her burst of emotion. Now all that was left was a playful smile and her twinkling eyes, surefire symbols that could only mean one thing. Jim resisted the urge to groan. “So,” she began, elbowing him, “when can I expect you to bring home a date? You know, I’m not getting any younger.” Jim knew she was only teasing, but he did notice that her hair had grayed a bit more since they’d last spoken and he knew that, whether she meant it as a joke or not, she certainly was getting older.

“Is this about your need for grandchildren?” he tried to joke back. It came out a little strained, which his mother noticed, but he had to give her credit for pretending she hadn’t.

“No, of course not! With Delbert’s crew I’ve got plenty of kids around, that’s for sure. They visit just about every week.” She began laughing softly but broke off halfway through to yawn. “I was just wondering if you’d found anyone of interest yet,” she said as she leaned her elbows on the table. “You’ll be twenty in three weeks and you’ve never brought anyone home.”

Jim skirted around her question by replying, “It’s late, mom. You need to get some sleep. There’ll be lots of hungry customers tomorrow, right? We can’t have you mopin’ around like an old lady.”

She smacked him on the arm playfully. “Don’t you dare patronize me, James Pleiades Hawkins. I am your mother and no matter how big you get I can still punish you.”

They laughed together amicably until Sarah rose, which prompted Jim to do the same. “Are you staying tonight?” she asked as she pushed her chair in. “I can fix you your favorite breakfast in the morning…”

Jim wished he could and he told her so. “I’ve got class early tomorrow,” he explained with a guilty smile. “But I’ll see you next month at graduation.”

“So busy all the time!” she said with a tired laugh. “Well, I will see you then, I promise. I’ll close this whole inn down for the day if I have to.”

“I know, I know.” They shared a brief smile before she bid him goodnight and headed to the stairs.

The moment she mounted the first step she paused, then looked over her shoulder at him. “Just remember to bundle up before you leave, okay?”

“I will.”

“And bring some food with you.”

“Got it.”

“Love you, honey.”

“Love you too, mom.” After that she was gone, leaving him alone at the table for another several minutes before he could will himself to move.

It suddenly struck him how late it had gotten during their conversation. The sky was jet black, sugared with far more stars than had been present when he’d arrived. Even the chess players from earlier were gone now, he noticed as he made a face at his watch, upon which the tiny gold hands struck five past midnight. He had to go to class in six hours. _That_ was going to be a pain, he thought with a sense of dread that he externalized as a groan.

With no time to lose he headed into the kitchen to heed his mother, prepared to grab whatever food from the fridge presented itself the quickest. Less than three steps away from the refrigerator, he stopped to eye the dirty dishes that had been left behind, sitting in a small, untidy formation beside the sink. It took a few seconds of deliberation for him to make a decision but, with a weary sigh and a semi-successful effort to blow his bangs out of his face, he turned on the tap water and got to work.

Scrub, rinse, dry, repeat. He worked methodically without as much as a pause to wipe his brow. Though this wasn’t exactly an impressive feat, deep down he knew that if it hadn’t been for his time as a cabin boy aboard the R.L.S. Legacy, he wouldn’t be half as good at doing dishes as he was now, even if he had helped occasionally with the chore before he’d left the inn those handful of years ago.

Sometimes he missed the sense of adventure he had on that old ship. Usually he tried to avoid thinking about it, lest he get shivers down his spine from the images of that bloodthirsty crew, of being so close to death too many times, but tonight the memories incessantly plagued his brain.

Yet he thought about the cook, and the doctor, and the captain as well. The ones who made him who he was. The ones he loved, each in a different way. He tried not to think about that last part, either, but something about being alone in the dark with a scrub brush and a plate made him introspective.

He’d just finished drying the last plate when the bell at the front door jingled, notifying him that someone had just entered the inn. Curious, he stepped out of the kitchen, towel still working to dry the hot water droplets from his now reddened hands.

“Good evening,” he greeted the shadow of a figure, standing tall and stark in the parlor. “Sorry it’s dark in here. We don’t usually get customers after ten o’clock, so we just turn the lights…off…” After fumbling around for a moment he’d flicked the overhead lamp on, only to be met with the sight of a cloaked cyborg, his shoulders sprinkled with snow and one eye glowing amber in the center of a metal fixture.

The towel that had been in Jim’s hands suddenly vanished with his grip, and the only thing he could coherently think at first was that he was glad he hadn’t been carrying a plate. After that, his brain refused to process any real thoughts except a flustered mantra of _Shit, shit, shit._

He must have been quite a picture, standing there in crumpled clothes with a dirty ponytail and a pink flush of sunburn across his shoulders and face, his lips parting to release the crushed exhale that had been forced from his throat.

And yet John Silver looked at him like he was the best damn thing he’d ever seen.

It was clear that neither of them wanted to speak first. While Jim’s gaze remained locked on the other’s face in disbelief, Silver’s eyes were searching, taking in the young man’s appearance like he was both proud and upset at what he saw.

The bigger man took a hesitant step forward on his mechanical leg, producing a quiet whoosh of air that somehow jarred Jim’s perception of reality into focus. It suddenly became clear that this was exactly who he thought it was standing before him, tall and wide as always, right in the doorway of the Benbow Inn. Time seemed to freeze around him and he wondered dumbly if Silver felt the same sensation.

“You…” Jim finally broke the silence with a shattered voice. “You’re back.”


	2. Two

Something inside of Jim was at war.

He looked across the room at his long-lost shipmate, teacher and friend. Something wildly pleasant boiled up toward his throat at the same time something heavy and metallic settled in the pit of his stomach. His tongue was weighed down with too many words, too many emotions, too many confessions and pleas and questions.

John Silver’s robotic eye still flashed a warm orangey-gold underneath the lamplight, not moving from Jim’s face. “You’re right grown up, ye are, Jim Hawkins.”

Without warning or permission from his brain, Jim began to cry. It was silent but he imagined it was pathetic all the same, him standing there with his eyes leaking and his mouth quivering, a grown man in a state of hectic emotional shock.

Silver knelt down on his flesh and blood leg and symbolically crossed his heart with his right hand.

Jim knew that Silver was not religious.

“Forgive me for this, lad. Aye, for everything else as well, but for this, especially.”

He could barely manage back, “For what?” and the answer came when Silver stood and snatched him into an abrupt embrace.

“For showin’ up so suddenly like I did.”

They stood like that for a moment too long, and Jim said nothing when Silver released him and took a heavy, groaning step back while he raised his hand as if to cross his heart again. Jim couldn’t—or rather, wouldn’t—imagine why Silver looked so penitent.

Nervously, Jim eyed the stairs, expecting his mother to come down at any moment even though he knew the soft sound of the welcome bell wouldn’t have woken her at such a late hour. Something akin to guilt stirred in his throat and he swallowed it down. “Listen,” he said flatly, avoiding Silver’s stare, which he imagined bore the same guilt that he felt.

_But why?_

He knew why. He knew deep down that Silver had always known about how Jim had felt back then, and that he couldn’t possibly have returned the feelings of a young, wayward boy. Jim felt sinful just thinking about feeling that way and tried, in vain, to push it to the back of his mind.

After this brief moment of self-reflection he said, “I’m sorry.”

This seemed to surprise Silver. “Whatever for, boy?” He blinked and then allowed his mouth to ease back into a smile. “Pardon: Young man.”

“For—for ah…” Jim didn’t want to say for what, but Silver, to his credit, nodded and hummed delicately to signal that he understood. Jim felt hotly ashamed but stood tall, as if those feelings had bled away over the years and that he had nothing to worry about anymore.

Silver eyed him curiously. “Ain’t no reason to apologize…‘cept maybe to your mum, ‘cause she certainly didn’t raise ye to fall in love with ugly old thieves.” Silver grinned and his robotic eye turned a mirthful yellow.

Jim found himself laughing, then just as suddenly Silver was. After a minute they were quiet again, wiping their eyes and smiling merrily. Some of the tension had melted away.

“God, I missed you,” Jim said, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s been five goddamn years.”

“Aye.” Silver found a nearby chair to sink into and pulled his hat lower over his face. From beneath it, he added a muffled, “Don’t be talkin’ like a sailor, now. It ain’t becomin’ of ye.”

A wicked grin carved across Jim’s face. “Why are you here, asshole?”

Silver grumbled a laugh. “Wanted to say…hello.” The pause in his response made Jim’s smile falter, but he tried to tell himself that he had known what was coming.

“Uh-huh,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not an idiot. I know you mean…”

Silver nodded sagely but didn’t lift the hat from his face. “Goodbye.”

Jim couldn’t help but feel a little angry, a little betrayed, a little let down. A lot let down. “Then take your stupid hat off and _talk_ to me. Don’t just sit there and—and—” As he fumbled for words, Silver pushed his hat back up without comment and leaned forward in his seat, elbows on his knees. Even though he’d listened to Jim and heeded his wish, Jim found he had nothing to say and felt strangely like crying again. This time, however, he managed to steel himself with a breath.

“To tell ye the truth, Jim,” Silver began, “I got mongrels out for me head, and I don’t know if I’ll be alive much longer.”

Jim had not expected that. He expected—dreamt—many things that would have possibly come out of this moment, but he’d never thought this would be one of them. He choked on his next words. “No way. You’re kidding.”

“I wish I were.” Despite his tone, he smiled again. “I’m just glad I got to see ye again before I got me own head served to me on a plate.”

“Don’t say that.” Jim sounded angry, but he felt emotionally drained and must have looked it, too, because Silver sighed wearily and extended a hand toward him.

“I say it because it’s true, lad.” Jim ignored his hand so he put it back down. “But I came to trouble ye just one more time.”

“Anything,” Jim replied without hesitation, feeling the curious combination of guilt and excitement rise in him once more.

“Let me tell ye a dead man’s tale.”

And Jim let him.

They set there all night, first with Silver in his chair making grand gestures with his hands, and Jim cross-legged on the floor staring up at him in wonder. It was as if nothing between them had changed—as if no time at all had passed.

Halfway through the story of his great adventures he gestured for Jim to stand, which he did, dumbfounded. “The rest of the story,” Silver said slowly, putting his hands on Jim’s arms, “is about the time I fell in love.”

Jim’s chest ached cavernously but he smiled anyway.

“Sit down,” Silver said amicably, patting his lap.

Jim snorted. “I’m an adult.”

“Aye, and?”

To be fair, Jim didn’t have an argument prepared for that so he conceded, legs curled up to his chest, his head back on Silver’s shoulder, eyes half-closed in a pleasantly sleepy state.

The story continued, telling of a marvelously brave brunette with eyes like the stars and blood like the sea. Jim stared blankly at what he could see of Silver’s face from where his own head rested, and suddenly he understood.

It was not a striking revelation; there were no moving planets and no light shining down on him. It was simply a feeling of _rightness_ that struck him. He said nothing, but he was smiling when he closed his eyes. His chest still hurt, but he fell asleep anyway.

When he awoke it was early morning and he was curled up in the chair by himself, pressed against the soft crushed velvet that still smelled faintly familiar. He was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to be struck with any sense of grief until much, much later that day when he and his mother were washing the breakfast dishes side by side.

“I thought you said you had class today,” Sarah said, regarding him from the corner of her eye.

“It got cancelled,” he lied. When his mother’s stare did not lift from his face he shrugged one shoulder and extended his arm, palm up, as if to ask, “ _What?_ ” There was no response, and she simply returned to scrubbing the cup in her hands.

Outside the sky was a brilliant, saturated blue stained with threads of clouds. Birds twittered merrily, unaffected by Jim’s somber mood and the snow they should have been avoiding. He supposed not everyone cared about what was best for themselves.

“Honey,” Sarah began after a moment, setting the cup down, “what’s wrong?”

 _I fell in love with a dead man,_ he thought. “Nothing,” he said.

A snippet of Silver’s story from the night before suddenly nagged at him. Something about hanging on to what you’ve got and something about telling the truth before it’s too late. Something about guilt. Jim sighed and set his plate back in the sink. “Actually, there is something.”

He thought about all his secrets, and how he didn’t want this to be one of them.

“Mom,” he started carefully, glancing back out of the window where he could see that the birds were still flying despite the snow, happy as any creature could be in the last stretch of winter. Despite himself a warm sensation flowed through his body and he smiled at nothing in particular.

“Yes, Jim?” She raised an eyebrow.

He turned his smile to her, suddenly swept up in a feeling of belonging. He’d let himself forget what that was like.

“Something happened to me that I never told you about.”

Sarah looked startled, but when Jim laid a hand on her shoulder her features assembled into a more curious expression. “What might that be?” she asked.

“I fell in love,” he said.

Sarah’s mouth fell open, then snapped right back up into a smile. “Oh, Jim—!”

He swallowed hard and turned back to the dishes. He did not look up when he spoke. “His name is John.”

His mother was silent, as he’d anticipated. Then, after just a few seconds she hummed and dragged him into a hug. “Jim. Honey.” She squeezed him to her chest and he let her. “I’m proud of you no matter what, you know that. I’m sure this John fellow is lovely. Will I ever get to meet him?”

Jim’s heart stung. “I hope so,” he said. And he meant it. “He travels a lot.”

“Just like you!” Sarah laughed gently and resumed her dish-washing duties while Jim absent-mindedly dried his hands on a towel.

“Yeah, mom. Just like me.”

Outside, the birds sang. Inside, Jim Hawkins’s life continued.

Outside, somewhere in space, was John Silver. And inside, somewhere in the Benbow Inn, was the man he loved.


End file.
